"Well, actually the moon is always much the same size in appearance /
Apogee to Perigee's just 12 percent in variance / The sun's about the
same, by strange coincidence / 400 times the moon's size but 400 times
the distance hence / But when near the horizon they appear supersize
indeed when lines of perspective meet with earthly points of reference
/ Heed the ancient seers who'd too oft dwell on why it seems low moon
doth swell / It's tricking you to think it's grown, but put it in its
place / By
sticking something known between it and your face"

"Aw, you're so romantic!!"

"You can always cover the moon with your outstretched little finger /
No matter how huge it might appear to be / You may not believe it but
soon not an ounce of doubt will linger / As you behold, at arm's
length held, your meager midget digit's width eclipse that lunar glow and
it's corona's all that slips by as it flips / That old illusion on its
head,
instead you might even swoon / As you align that
syzygy of eye, pinky
and moon"

Then again, if you would rather keep the mystery, maintain the magic
Please don't let your poxy pinky party poop and pop that moon balloon
And so expose that slight of hand of God
Don't flip your finger at that fond, far flung face
Revealing its corneal cosmic conjuring
Just forget I ever said a thing...
[Chorus...]

When life's problems loom out of proportion, scale them back into tune
Meld allegory amid melody
Make malady a mere memory
Croon soothingly that syzygy of eye, pinky
and moon